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SOME MEMOIRS 



OF THE 



LIFE OF JOHN EOBEETS. 



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DANIEL ROBERTS. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
FRIENDS' BOOK-STORE, 

304 APwCH STREET. 



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SOME MEMOIRS 

OF THE 

LIFE OF JOHN ROBERTS. 



IHA VE had it on my mind, for some years past, to 
commit to writing some memorable passages, the 
chief of which were transacted in my time ; together 
with some short account of our family. 

My grandfather's name was John Roberts, alias 
Hayward. He lived at a village called Siddington, 
within a mile of Cirencester, in Gloucestershire. I 
have heard he lived reputably on a little estate of 
his own, which he occupied. He married Mary 
Solliss, sister to Andrew Solliss, Esq., who was in the 
commission of the peace, and sustained great spoil in 
the time of the civil war betw^een King Charles I. 
and the parliament. I have heard that a colonel, 
and his men, and horses, quartered themselves upon 
'him a considerable time together, turning their horses 
to the corn and hay-mows. 

My father and his next neighbour went into the 
army under Oliver Cromwell, and continued till they 

5 



6 MEMOIRS OF 

heard Cirencester was taken by the king's party; 
when they thought proper to return home, to see 
how it fared with their parents and relations. 

As they were passing by Cirencester, they were 
discovered and pursued by two soldiers of the king's 
party, then in possession of the town. Seeing them- 
selves pursued, they quitted their horses and took to 
their heels ; but by reason of their accoutrements, 
could make little speed. They came up with my 
father first; and though he begged for quarter, none 
they would give him, but laid on him with their 
swords, cutting and slashing his hands and arms, 
which he held up to save his head ; as the marks 
upon them did long after testify. At length it 
pleased the Almighty to put it into his mind to fall 
down on his face; which he did. Hereupon the 
soldiers, being on horseback, cried to each other, 
"Alight, and cut his throat!" but neither of them 
did ; yet continued to strike and prick him about 
the jaws, till they thought him dead. Then they left 
him, and pursued his neighbour, whom they presently 
overtook and killed. Soon after they had left my 
father, it was said in his heart, " Rise and flee for thy 
life ! " Which call he obeyed ; and starting upon 
his feet, his enemies espied him in motion, and pur- 
sued him again. He ran down a steep hill, and 
through a river which ran at the bottom of it; 
though with exceeding diflSculty, his boots filling 



JOHN ROBERTS. ? 

with water, and his wounds bleeding very much. 
They followed him to the top of the hill ; but seeing 
he had got over, pursued him no farther. He was 
at a loss which way to take in this wounded and dis- 
consolate condition, being surrounded with enemies 
on every hand. At length he determined to go to 
his uncle SoUiss's ; from whence he sent a servant to 
a widow at Cirencester (at whose house the chief 
officers lay) with whom he was acquainted, desiring 
her to come to him ; which she readily did, and of- 
fered him all the service in her power. He desired 
her, as the principal officers lay at her house, to use 
her interest with them to give command that none 
of the soldiers might offer him any abuse : which she 
effected ; and in good will to her they likewise sent 
their ablest surgeon to him. He was a man of great 
skill, but of a sour disposition ; for he told my 
father, '* If he had met him in the field, he would 
have killed him himself; but now, said he, I '11 cure 
you ; " which he did. When my father found him- 
self able, he went to his father's house, and found 
him very ill in bed. They greeted each other with 
many tears, and in a great intermixture of joy and 
sorrow. After some time, my father perceived him 
to tremble to such a degree, that the bed shook 
under him. Upon which my father asked him how 
it was with him ? He replied, " I am well ; I feel 
no pain ; 't is the mighty power of God that shakes 
1* 



8 MEMOIRS OF 

me." After lying still some time, he broke out in a 
sweet melody of spirit, saying, " In the Lord only 
have I righteousness and strength ! In God have I 
salvation ! " I don't remember to have heard he 
said anything more before his departure. 

The civil war continuing, my father found he 
could not be safe at home, and therefore he went 
again and continued till near the conclusion of that 
dreadful eruption ; when he returned again to his 
sorrowful family at Siddington. After some time he 
took to wife Lydia Tindal, daughter of Thomas 
Tindal, of Slincomb, near Dursl^y, a religious fam- 
ily, and one of those under the denomination of Pu- 
ritans. Matthew Hale, afterwards Lord Chief Jus- 
tice of England, was her kinsman, and drew her 
marriage settlement. It pleased God to give them 
six children, viz. John, Joseph, Lydia, Thomas, Na- 
thaniel, and Daniel. Joseph and Lydia died young; 
Thomas was Mlled, at the age of fourteen, by a kick 
from a horse ; the rest living to man's estate. 

In the year 1665, it pleased the Lord to send two 
women Friends out of the north to Cirencester ; 
who, inquiring after such as feared God, were di- 
rected to my father, as the likeliest person to enter- 
tain them. They came to his house, and desired a 
meeting. He granted it, and invited several of his 
acquaintance to sit with them. After some time of 
silence, the Friends spake a few words, which had 



JOHN ROBERTS. 9 

a good effect. After the meeting, my father en- 
deavored to engage them in discourse ; but they said 
little, only recommended him to Richard Farns- 
worth, then prisoner for the testimony of truth in 
Banbury jail, to whom they were going. Upon the 
recommendation my father went shortly after to the 
prison, in order to converse with Richard, where he 
met with the two women who had been at his house. 
The turnkey was denying them entrance, and telling 
them, " He had an order not to let any of those gid- 
dy-headed people in ; and therefore, if they did go 
in, he would keep them there." But at my father's 
desire they were admitted in along with him, and 
conducted through several rooms, to a dungeon, 
where Richard Farnsworth was preaching through 
a grate to the people in the street. But soon after 
they came in, he desisted ; and, after a little time of 
silence, turning to them, he spoke to this purpose : 
*' That Zaccheus being a man of low stature, and 
having a mind to see Christ, ran before, and climbed 
up into a sycamore-tree : and our Saviour knowing 
his good desires, called to him, * Zaccheus, come 
down ! this day is salvation come to tliy house.' 
Thus Zaccheus was -like some in our day, who are 
climbing up into the tree of Knowledge, thinking to 
find Christ there. But the word now is, ^ Zaccheus, 
come down ! come down ! for that which is to be 
known of God is manifested within' " This, with 



10 MEMOIRS OF 

more to the same purpose, was spoken in such au- 
thority, that, when my father came home, he told 
my mother, " He had seen Richard Farnsworth, who 
had spoke to his condition as if he had known him 
from his youth." And after this time he patiently 
bore the cross ; and afterwards, when it pleased God 
to communicate to him a portion of the knowledge 
of his blessed truth, a necessity was laid upon him, 
one First Day morning, to go to the public worship- 
house in Cirencester, in the time of worship, not 
knowing what might be required of him there. He 
went ; and, standing with his hat on, the priest was 
silent for some time : But being asked, " Why he did 
not go on? " he answered, " He could not, while that 
man stood with his hat on." Upon this, some took 
him by the arm and led him into the street, staying 
at the door to keep him out : But, after waiting a 
little in stillness, he found himself clear, and passed 
away. As he passed the market-place, the tie of his 
shoe slackened, and, while he stooped down to fasten 
it, a man came behind him, and struck him on the 
back a hard blow with a stone, saying, "There, take 
that for Jesus Christ's sake." He answered, " So I 
do ;" not looking back to see who it was, but quietly 
going his way. A few days after, a man came and 
asked him forgiveness ; telling him, " He was the un- 
happy man that gave him the blow on his back, and 
he could have no rest since he had done it." 



JOHN ROBERTS. 11 

Not long after, three Friends came that way, who 
found the like concern, viz. : Robert Sylvester, Philip 
Grey, and Thomas On yon. These standing in the 
steeple-house with their hats on, though they said 
nothing, the priest was silent : And being asked, " If 
he was not well ? " he answered, " He could not go 
forward while those dumb dogs stood there." Where- 
upon the people dragged them out : And the priest 
afterwards informing a justice that they interrupted 
him in divine service, they were bound over to the 
quarter sessions. My father, at their desire, accom- 
panied them to the sessions : And, when they were 
called, and the priest had accused them, the bench, 
in a rage, without asking them any questions, or- 
dered their mittimuses to be made. This unjust and 
illegal proceeding kindled my father's zeal ; inso- 
much that he, stepping forward, called to the jus- 
tices, saying : " Are not those who sit on the bench 
sworn to do justice? Is there not a man among you 
that will do the thing that is right ? " Whereupon 
John Stephens of Lypeat (then chairman) cried out, 
" Who are you, sirrah ? What is your name ? " 
My father telling him his name, he said, " I am glad 
I have you here, I have heard of you : You deserve 
a stone doublet: There's many an honester man 
than you hanged." " It may be so," answered my 
father ; "but what dost thou think becomes of those 
that hang honest menf^^ The justice replied, "I'll 



12 MEMOIRS OF 

send you to prison ; and if any insurrection or tu- 
mult be in the land, I '11 come and cut your throat 
first with ray own sword ; for I fear to sleep in my 
bed lest such fanatics should come and cut my 
throat." And snatching up a ball of wax, violently 
threw it at my father; who avoided the blow by 
stepping aside. Their mittimuses were then made, 
and they were all sent to prison. 

The same evening my uncle SoUiss, who was one 
of the justices on the bench, came to the prison ; and 
calling for my father, asked him, " If he was willing 
to have his liberty to go home to his wife and fam- 
ily ? " " Upon what terms, uncle ? " said my father. 

Justice, Upon such terms, that the jailer open the 
doors and let you out. 

John Roberts. What! without entering into any 
recognizance ? 

Jus. Yes. 

J. R. Then I accept of my liberty. But I admire, 
uncle, how thou and several others could sit upon 
the bench as with your thumbs in your mouths, 
when you should speak a word in behalf of the in- 
nocent. 

Jus. You must learn to live under a law, cousin. 
And if you '11 accept of your liberty till next ses- 
sions, you may have it ; if not, stay where you are. 

So they parted; and on the morrow my father 
went home, having also the jailer's leave. 



JOHN ROBERTS. 13 

In the nigbt a concern came upon him with such 
weight that it made him tremble. My mother ask- 
ing the reason of it, he answered, " The Lord re- 
quires hard things of me ; if it would please him, I 
had rather lay down my life than obey him in what 
he requires at my hands/' To which my mother 
replied, "If thou art fully persuaded the Lord 
requires it of thee, I would not have thee disobey 
him : for he will require nothing of us but what he 
will enable us to go through : therefore we have good 
cause to trust in him." On which he said, " I must 
go to this John Stephens who is my great enemy, and 
sent me to prison, where he said he would secure me ; 
and, as my uncle Solliss in kindness has given me 
leave to come home, I can expect no more favor 
from him, if I now go and run myself into the 
mouth of my adversary. But I must go, whatever I 
suffer." He arose, and prepared for his journey, but 
durst eat or drink nothing. When he mounted his 
horse, the command of the Lord was to him, " Ke- 
member Lot's wife ; look not back." So on he rode 
very cheerfully eight or nine miles, till he came 
within sight of the justice's house ; and then he let in 
the reasoner, who reasoned him out of all his cour- 
age, presenting to his mind, that his uncle Solliss and 
his neighbours would say, " He had no regard for his 
wife and family, thus to push himself into the hands 
of his greatest enemy." This brought such a cloud 



14 MEMOIRS OF 

over his mind, that he alighted off his horse and sat 
down upon the ground, to spread his cause before 
the Lord. After he had waited some time in silence, 
the Lord appeared and dissipated the cloud, and his 
word was to him, " Go, and I will go with thee, and 
will give thee a thrashing instrument, and thou shalt 
thrash the mountains." Now he. was exceedingly- 
overcome with the love of God : and I have often 
heard him say he was filled like a vessel that wanted 
vent, and said in his heart, thy presence is enough^ 
and proceeded to the house with great satisfaction. 
It being pretty early in the morning, and seeing the 
stable-door open, he went to the groom, and desired 
him to put up his horse. While this was doing, the 
justice's son and his clerk came up, who roughly 
said, " I thought you had been in Gloucester castle." 

John Roberts. So I was. 

Clerk. And how came you out ? 

J. R. When thou hast authority to demand it, I 
can give thee an answer. But my business is with 
thy master, if I may speak with him. 

CI. You may if you will promise to be civil. 

J. R. If thou seest me uncivil, I desire thee to 
toll me of it. 

They went in ; and my father following them, they 
bid him take a turn in the hall, and they would ac- 
quaint the justice of his being there. He was soon 
called in ; and my father no sooner saw him, but he 



JOHN EGBERTS. 15 

believed the Lord had been at work upon him : for 
as he behaved to him with the fierceness of a lion 
before, he now appeared to him like a lamb, meeting 
him with a pleasant countenance, and taking him 
by the hand, said, " Friend Hayward, how do you 
do ? " My father answered, " Pretty well ; " and 
then proceeded thus : " I am come in the fear and 
dread of Heaven, to warn thee to repent of thy 
wickedness with speed, lest the Lord cut the thread 
of thy life, and send thee to the pit that is bottomless. 
I am come to warn thee in great love, whether thou 
wilt hear or forbear, and to preach the everlasting 
gospel to thee." The justice replied, "You are a 
welcome messenger to me ; that is what I have long 
desired to hear." " The everlasting gospel," returned 
my father, " is the same that God sent his servant 
John to declare, when he saw an angel fly through 
the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice, ' Fear 
God, and give glory to his name, and worship him 
who made heaven and earth, the sea and the foun- 
tains of water.' " The justice then caused my father 
to sit down by him on his couch, and said, " I believe 
your message is of God, and I receive it as such. I 
am sorry I have done you wrong ; I will never wrong 
you more. I would pray you to forgive me, and to 
pray to God to forgive me." After much more dis- 
course, he offered my father the best entertainment 
his houBe afforded; but my father excused himself 
2 



16 MEMOIES OF 

from eating or drinking with him at that time, ex- 
pressing his kind acceptance of his love ; and so in 
much love they parted. 

The same day William Dewsbury had appointed 
a meeting at Tedbury; whither my mother went. 
But she was so concerned on account of my father's 
exercise, that she could receive little benefit from the 
meeting. After the meeting was ended, William 
Dewsbury walked to and fro in a long passage, 
groaning in spirit ; and by and by came up to my 
mother; and, though she was a stranger to him, he 
laid his hand upon her head, and said, " Woman, 
thy sorrow is great ; I sorrow with thee." Then 
walking a little to and fro as before, he came to her 
again, and said, " Now the time is come, that those 
who marry must be as though they married not, and 
those who have husbands as though they had none ; 
for the Lord calls for all to be offered up." By this 
she saw the Lord had given him a sense of her great 
burthen ; for she had not discovered her exercise to 
any : And it gave her such ease in her mind, that 
she went home rejoicing in the Lord. She no sooner 
got home, but she found my father returned from 
Lypeat, where his message was received in such love 
as was far from their expectation ; the sense of which 
much broke them into tears, in consideration of the 
great goodness of God, in so eminently making way 
for and helping them that day. 



JOHN ROBERTS. 17 

At the next sessions my father and the three 
Friends appeared in court ; where, as soon as justice 
Stephens espied them, he called to my father, and 
said, "John, I accept your appearance, and dis- 
charge you; and the court discharges you. You 
may go about your business." But my father, think- 
ing his work not quite done, did not hasten out of 
court. Upon which the clerk demanded his fees. 
"What dost thou mean, money?" says my father. 
" Yes ; what do you think I mean ? " says the clerk. 
My father replied, " I don 't know that I owe any 
man here any thing but love ; and must I now pur- 
chase my liberty with money ? I don't accept it on 
such terms." 

Cleric^ (to the chairman.) An 't please your wor- 
ship, John won't pay the fees of the court. 

John Roberts, I don't acccept my liberty on such 
terms. 

Then he was ordered to prison with the three 
Friends, but in the evening the clerk discharged 
them, and ever after carried himself very kindly to 
my father. 

He was afterwards cast into prison at Cirences- 
ter, by George Bull, vicar of Upper Siddington, for 
tithes; where was confined at the same time, upon 
the same account, Elizabeth Hewlings, a widow of 
Amney, near Cirencester. She was a good Christian, 
and so good a midwife, that her confinement was a 



18 MEMOIES OF 

loss to that side of the country ; insomuch that lady 
Dunch of Down-Amney, thought it would be an act 
of charity to the neighbourhood to purchase her lib- 
erty, by paying the priest's demand ; which she did. 
She likewise came to Cirencester in a coach, and 
sent her footman, Alexander Cornwall, to the prison, 
to bring Elizabeth to her. And while Elizabeth 
was making ready to go with the man, my father 
and he fell into a little discourse. He asked ray 
father his name, and w-here his home was, which 
when my father had told him, " What," said he, 
** are you that John Say ward of Siddington, who 
keeps great conventicles at your house?'' My 
father answered, " The church of Christ often meets 
at my house. I suppose I am the man thou mean- 
est." " I have often," replied Cornwall, " heard my 
lady speak of you ; and I am sure she would gladly 
be acquainted with you." When he returned to his 
lady, he told her he had met with such a man in the 
prison, as he believed she would not suffer to lie in 
prison for conscience-sake ; informing her withal who 
it was. She immediately bid him go back and fetch 
him to her. Accordingly he came to the jail, and 
told my father his lady wanted to speak with him. 
My father answered, " If any body would speak with 
me, they must come where I am ; for I am a pris- 
oner." " Oh," said Cornwall, " I '11 get leave of the 
jailer for you to go." Which he did. And when 



JOHN ROBERTS. 19 

they came before the lady, she put on a majestic air, 
to see how the Quaker would greet her. He went up 
towards her, and bluntly said, " Woman, wouldst 
thou speak with me ? " 

Lady. What 's your name? 

John Roberts, My name is John Roberts ; but I 
am commonly known by the name of John Hay ward 
in the place where I live. 

Lady, Where do you live ? 

J. R, At a village called Siddington, about a 
mile distant from this town. 

Lady. Are you the man that keeps conventicles at 
your house ? 

J. R. The church of Christ do often meet at my 
house, I presume I am the man thou meanest. 

Lady. What do you lie in prison for ? 

J. R. Because, for conscience-sake, I can't pay 
a hireling priest what he demands of me ; therefore 
he, like the false prophets of old, prepares war 
against me, because I cannot put into his mouth. 

Lady. By what I have heard of you, I took you 
to be a wise man ; and if you could not pay him 
yourself, you might let somebody else pay him for 
you. 

J. R. That would be underhand dealings ; and I 
had rather pay him myself than be such a hypocrite. 

Lady. Then suppose some neighbour or friend 
should pay him for you, unknown to you, would you 
2* B 



20 MEMOIRS OF 

choose to lie in prison when you might have your 
liberty ? 

J, E, I am very well content where I am, till it 
shall please God to make way for my freedom. 

Lady, I have a mind to set you at liberty, that I 
may have some of your company, which I cannot 
well have while you are in prison. 

Then speaking to her man, she bid him go to the 
priest's attorney, and tell him she would satisfy him ; 
and then pay the jailer his fees, and get a horse for 
my father to go to Down-Amney with her. 

J, H, If thou art a charitable woman, as I take 
thee to be, there are abroad in the world many real 
objects of charity, on whom to bestow thy bounty : 
but to feed such devourers as these, I don't think to 
be charity. They are like Pharaoh's lean kiue ; they 
eat up the fat and the goodly, and look not a whit 
the better. 

Lady. Well, I would have you get ready to go 
with us. 

J. R, I don't know as thou art like to have me 
when thou hast bought and paid for me; for if I 
may have my liberty, I shall think it my place to 
be at home with my wife and family. But, if thou 
desirest it, I intend to come and see thee at Down- 
Amney some other time. 

Lady, That will suit me better. But set your 
time, and I '11 lay aside all other business to have 
your company. 



JOHN ROBERTS, 21 

J. R. If it please God to give me life, health, and 
liberty, I intend to come on seventh day next, the 
day thou callest Saturday. 

Lady. Is that as far as you used to promise ? 

J. E. Yes. 

According to his appointment, my fatlier went; 
and found her very inquisitive about the things of 
God, and very attentive to the truths he delivered. 
She engaged him likewise a second time, and treated 
him with abundance of regard. A third time she 
bid her man Cornwall to go to him, and desire him 
to appoint a day when he would pay her another 
visit : And then ordered him to go to Priest Careless, 
of Cirencester, and desire him to come and take a din- 
ner with her at the same time ; and not let either of 
them know the other was to be there. On the day 
appointed, my father went ; and when he had got 
within sight of her house, he heard a horse behind 
him, and looking back, he saw the priest following 
him ; which made him conclude the lady had pro- 
jected to bring them together. When the priest 
came up to him, "Well overtaken, John,'' said he; 
*' how far are you going this way ? " My father an- 
swered, " I believe we are both going to the same 
place." " What," said Careless, " are you going to 
the great house ? " " Yes," said my father. " Come 
on then, John," said he. So then thpy went in to- 
gether. And the lady being ill in bed, a servant 



22 MEMOIRS OP 

went up and informed her they were come. " What," 
said she, "did they come together?" "Yes," an- 
swered the servant. "I admire that," said she, 
" But do you beckon John out, and bring him to me 
first up the back stairs." When my father came 
up, she told him she had been very ill in a fit of the 
stone ; and said, " I have heard you have done good 
in many distempers." 

jr. R. I confess I have ; but to this of the stone I 
am a stranger. Indeed I once knew a man, who 
lived at ease, and fared delicately, as thou mayst do, 
and whilst he continued in that practice he was much 
afllicted with that distemper. But it pleased the Lord 
to visit him with a knowledge of his blessed truth, 
which brought him to a more regular and temperate 
life, and this preserved him more free from it. 

Lady. Oh ! I know what you aim at. You want 
to have me a Quaker, And I confess if I could be 
such a one as you are, I would be a Quaker to-mor- 
row. But I understand Mr. Careless is below ; and 
though you are men of different persuasions, I ac- 
count you both wise and godly men ; and some mod- 
erate discourse of the things of God between you, I 
believe would do me good. 

J, E. If he ask me any questions, as the Lord 
shall enable me, I shall endeavour to give him an 
answer. 

She then had the parson up ; and after a compli- 



JOHN ROBERTS. 23 

ment or two, said, " I made bold to send for you, to 
take an ordinary dinner with me, though I am dis- 
appointed of your company by my illness. But 
John Hayward and you, being persons of different 
persuasions, (though I believe both good Christians,) 
if you would soberly ask and answer each other a 
few questions, it would divert me, so that I should 
be less sensible of the pains I lie under." 

Priest, An 't please your ladyship, I see nothing in 
that. 

Lady. Pray, Mr. Careless, ask John some questions. 

Priest It will not edify your ladyship ; for I have 
discoursed John, and several others of his persuasion, 
divers times, and I have read their books, and all to 
no purpose ; for they sprung from the Papists, and 
hold the same doctrine the Papists do. Let John 
deny it if he can, 

J, R, I find thou art setting us out in very black 
characters with design to affright me ; but therein 
thou wilt be mistaken. I advise thee to say no worse 
of us than thou canst make out, and then make us 
as black as thou canst. And if thou canst prove me 
a Papist in one thing, with the help of God I '11 
prove thee like them in ten. And this woman, who 
lies here in bed, shall be judge. 

Priest. The Quakers hold that damnable doctrine, 
and dangerous tenet, of perfection in this life; and so 
do the Papists. If you go about to deny it, John, I 
can prove you hold it. 



24 MEMOIRS OF 

J". R. I doubt now thou art going about to belie 
the Papists behind their backs, as thou hast hereto- 
fore done by us. For by what I have learnt of their 
principles, they do not believe a state of freedom 
from sin, and acceptance with God, possible on this 
side of the grave ; and therefore they have imagined 
to themselves a place oi purgation after death. But 
whether they believe such a state attainable or no, 
I do. 

Priest An 't please your ladyship, John has con- 
fessed enough out of his own mouth ; for that is a 
damnable doctrine, and dangerous tenet. 

J. R, I would ask thee one question : Dost thou 
own a purgatory f 

Priest No. 

J, R. Then the Papists, in this case, are wiser than 
thou. They own the saying of Christ, who told the 
unbelieving Jews, if they died in their sins, whither 
he went they could not come. But, by thy discourse, 
thou, and thy followers, must needs go headlong to 
destruction; since thou neither ownest a place of 
purgation after death, nor such a preparation for 
heaven to be possible in this life, as is absolutely 
necessary. The scripture thou knowest tells us, 
" where death leaves us judgment will find us. If a 
tree falls towards the north or the south, there it 
must lie." And since " no unclean thing can enter 
the kingdom of heaven," pray tell this poor woman. 



JOHN ROBERTS. 25 

^^^hom thou hast been preaching to for thy belly, 
whether ever, or never, she must expect to be freed 
of her sins, and made fit for the kingdom of heaven ; 
or whether the blind must lead the blind till both 
fall into the ditch. 

Priest No, John, you mistake me : I believe that 
God Almighty is able of his great mercy to forgive 
persons their sins, and fit them for heaven, a little 
before they depart this life. 

J. R. I believe the same. Bat, if thou wilt limit 
the Holy One of Israel, how long wilt thou give the 
Lord to fit a person for his glorious kingdom ? 

Priest It may be an hour or two. 

J. R. My faith is a day or two, as well as an hour 
or two. 

Priest I believe so too. 

J. R, Or a week or two. And my father carried 
it to a month or two; and so gradually till he 
brought it to seven years, the priest confessing he 
believed the same. On which my father thus pro- 
ceeded : how couldst thou accuse me of Popery, in 
holding this doctrine, which thou thyself hast con- 
fessed ? If I am like a Papist, thou art, by thy own 
confession, as much a Papist as I am. And if it be 
a damnable doctrine and dangerous tenet in the 
Quakers, is it not the same in thyself? Thou told 
me I mistook thee : but hast not thou mistaken thy- 
self, in condemning thy own acknowledged opinion 



26 MEMOIES OF 

when uttered by me? But notwithstanding thou 
hast failed in making me out to be a Papist in this 
particular, canst thou do it in anything else ? Upon 
this the priest being mute, my father thus proceeded : 
Well, though thou hast failed in proving me like 
them, it need not hinder me from showing thee to be 
so in many things. For instance, you build houses 
and consecrate them, calling them churches ; as do 
the Papists. You hang bells in them and consecrate 
them, calling them by the name of saints ; so do they. 
The pope and the priests of the Romish church 
wear surplices, gowns, cassocks, &c., calling them 
their ornaments ? here thou hast the like : And dost 
not thou style them thy ornaments ? You consecrate 
the ground where you inter your dead, calling it 
holy ground ; so do they. In short, thou art like a 
Papist in so many things, he had need be a wise man 
to distinguish betwixt them and thee. 

At this the priest appeared uneasy, and said to the 
lady, " Madam, I must beg your excuse ; for there 's 
to be a lecture this afternoon, and I must be there." 
She pressed him to stay to dinner ; but he earnestly 
desired to be excused. So a slice or two being cut 
off the spit, he ate, and took his leave. 

The lady then said to my father, " Had she not 
seen it, she could not have believed Mr. Careless 
could have been so foiled in discourse by any man : 
For, said she, I accounted him as sound and ortho- 



JOHN EGBERTS. 27 

dox a divine as any was ; but now I must tell you, I 
am so far of your opinion, that if you '11 let me know 
when you have a meeting at your house, and some- 
body to preach (not a silent meeting), I'll come and 
hear them myself." My father answered, " He ex- 
pected she would be as good as her word." Not long 
after came two Friends to my father's house; and 
though the weather was very severe, he found he 
could not be easy without acquainting her with it. 
So he went to her house ; but she seemed a little sur- 
prised, saying, " What 's your will now, John ? " He 
informed her of the two Friends, and their intention 
of having a meeting at his house. " How can you 
expect," said she, " that I should go out such weather 
as this ? You know I seldom stir out of my chamber, 
and to go so far will endanger my health." My father 
returned, " I would not have thee make excuses, as 
some of old did, and were not found worthy. Thou 
knowest time is none of ours; and we know not 
whether we may have the like opportunity again. 
The snow need not much incommode thee : thou 
mayst be quickly in thy coach, and, putting up the 
glasses, mayst be pretty warm ; and when thou 
comest to my house, I know my wife will do her best 
for thee." So she ordered her coach and six to be 
got ready, (for the distance was seven miles), saying, 
" John 's like death, he '11 not be denied." My father 
came along with her ; and, during the time of silence 
3 



28 MEMOIRS OF 

in the meeting, she appeared something restless ; but 
was very attentive whilst either of the Friends were 
speaking. She was very well pleased after the meet- 
ing, and sat at table with the Friends. When the 
rest sat silent, she would be frequently whispering to 
my mother, till one of them spake a few words before 
meat. She was ashamed, and told my mother, " when 
she was among the great she was accounted a wise 
woman: but now," said she, *^ I am among you 
Quakers, I am a very fool.'' Presently after dinner, 
she returned home, and came several times to the 
meeting afterwards ; and I am fully persuaded she 
was convinced of the truth ; but, going up to Lon- 
don, she was there taken ill and died. 

Her man, Alexander Cornwall, was convinced of 
the truth, and was afterwards a prisoner with my 
father in Gloucester castle; where the jailer was very 
cruel to them, sometimes putting them into the com- 
mon jail among felons, and at other times he would 
hire a tinker (who lay for his fees) to trouble them 
in the night by playing on his hautboy. One time 
in particular, my father being concerned to speak to 
him in the dread and power of God, it struck him to 
such a degree, that he dropped the instrument out 
of his hand, and would never take it into hand upon 
that occasion any more. When the jailer asked him, 
" Why he discontinued it ? " he answered, " They are 
the servants of the living God, and 1 11 never play more 



JOHN BOBERTS. 29 

to disturb them, if you hang me up at the door for 
it." " What ! " said the jailer, " are you bewitched 
too ? I '11 turn you out of the castle." Which he 
did ; and the Friends, who were there prisoners, 
raised him some money, clothed him, and away he 
went. 

Some time after, my father had three conferences 

with Nicholson, bishop of Gloucester, 

introduced in the following manner: An apparitor 
came to cite my father to appear at the bishop's 
court : but he told my father he could not encourage 
him to come, lest they should ensnare him and send 
him to prison. At the same time he cited a servant 
of my father's, named John Overall. My father 
went at the time appointed, w^ithout his servant ; and 
when his name was called over, he answered to it. 
The discourse that occurred was in substance as 
follows : 

Bishop. What 's your name ? 

J. Roberts, I have been called by my name, and 
answered to it. 

Bishop, I desire to hear it again. 

J". R. My name is John Koberts. 

Bishop, Well, you were born Roberts, but you 
were not born John. Pray who gave you that 
name? 

J, R, Thou hast asked me a very hard question, 
my name being given me before I was capable of 



30 MEMOIRS OF 

remembering who gave it me. But I believe it was 
my parents, they being the only persons ^vho had a 
right to give me my name. That name they always 
called me by, and to that name I always answered ; 
and I believe none need call it in question now. 

Bishop, No, no; but how many children have 
you? 

J, E. It hath pleased God to give me six chil- 
dren ; three of whom he was pleased to take from 
me ; the other three are still living. 

Bishop. And how many of them have been 
bishoped ? 

J. B. None that I know of. 

Bishop. What reason can you give for that ? 

J". jB. a very good one, I think : most of my chil- 
dren were born in Oliver's days, when bishops were 
out of fashion. [At this the court fell to laughing.] 

Bishop, How many of them have been baptized ? 

J, E, What dost thou mean by that ? 

Bishop, What ! don't you own baptism ? 

J, B, Yes; but perhaps we may differ in that 
point. 

Bishop, What baptism do you own? That of the 
Spirit, I suppose. 

J, B. Yes. What other baptism should I own ? 

Bishop, Do you own but one baptism? 

J, B, If one be enough, what needs any more ? 
The apostle said, One Lord, one faith, one baptism. 



JOHN EGBERTS. 31 

Bishop, What say you of the baptism of water f 

J". R, I say, there was a man sent from God, whose 
name was John, who had a real commission for it ; 
and he was the only man that I read of who was em- 
powered for that work. 

Bishop. But what if I make it appear to you that 
some of Christ's disciples themselves baptized with 
water, after Christ's ascension ? 

J". jR. I suppose that 's no very difficult task ; but 
what 's that to me ? 

Bishop. Is it nothing to you, what Christ's disci- 
ples themselves did ? 

J. R. Not in every thing ; for Paul, that eminent 
apostle, who, I suppose, thou wilt grant had as ex- 
tensive a commission as any of the rest of the apos- 
tles ; nay, he says himself, he was not a whit behind 
the chiefest of them, and yet he honestly confesses 
he had no commission to baptize with water; and 
further says, " I thank God I baptized none but such 
and such ; for," says he, " I was not sent to baptize, 
(^. e. with water,) but to preach the gospel." And 
if he was not sent, I would soberly ask, who required 
it at his hands? Perhaps he might have as little 
thanks for his labour as thou mayst have for thine ; 
and I would willingly know, who sent thee to baptize. 

Bishop. That is not our present business. You are 
here returned for not coming to church. What say 
you to that ? 
3^ 



32 MEMOIRS OF 

J, JR, I desire to see my accusers. 

Bishop. It is the minister and church-wardens. 
Do you deny it ? 

J". E, Yes, I do ; for it was always my principle 
and practice to go to church. 

Bishop, And do you go to church f 

J, R. Yes ; and sometimes the church comes to me. 

Bishop, The church comes to you ? I don't under- 
stand you, friend. 

J, R, It may be so ; 't is often for want of a good 
understanding that the innocent are made to suffer. 

Apparitor. My lord, he keeps meetings at his 
house, and he calls that a church. 

J", i?. No ; I no more believe my house to be a 
church, than I believe what you call so to be one. I 
call the people of God the church of God, whereso- 
ever they are met to worship him in spirit and in 
truth. And when I say the church comes to me, I 
mean the assembly of such worshippers, who fre- 
quently meet at my house, I do not call that a 
church which you do, which is made of wood and 
stone ; that is but the workmanship of men's hands : 
whereas the true church consists of living stones, and 
is built up by Christ, a spiritual house to God. 

Bishop, We call it a church figuratively, mean- 
ing the place where the church meets. 

J, R. I fear you call it a church hypocritically 
and deceitfully, with design to awe the people into 



JOHN ROBERTS. 33 

a veneration for the place, which is not due to it, 
as though your consecrations had made that house 
holier than others. 

Bishop. What do you call that which we call a 
church ? 

J, E, It may properly enough be called a mass- 
house, it being formerly built for that purpose. 

Appa, Mr. Hayward, it is expected you should 
show more respect than you do in this place, in 
keeping on your hat, 

X R. Who expects it? 

Appa, My Lord Bishop. 

J, R, I expect better things from him. 

Bishop, No, no, keep on your hat ; I don't expect 
it from you. A little after, the bishop said, " Well, 
Friend, this is not a convenient time for you and me 
to dispute ; but I may take you to my chamber, and 
convince you of your errors." 

J, R. I shall take it kindly of thee, or any man 
else to convince me of my errors that I hold, and 
would hold them no longer. 

Bishop, Call some others. Then my father's man 
was called; who not appearing, the apparitor said, 
Mr. Hayward, is John Overall here ? 

J. R. I believe not. 

Bishop, What is the reason he is not here ? 

J, R, I think there are very good reasons for hia 
al)sence. 



34 MEMOIRS OF 

Bishop. What are they? Mayn't I know? 

J, B. In the first place, he is an old man, and not 
of ability to undertake such a journey, except it was 
upon a very good account. In the second place, he 
is my servant ; and I can't spare him out of my 
business in my absence. 

Bishop. Why does he not go to church then ? 

J. B. He does go to church with me. [At this 
the court fell a laughing.] 

Bishop. Call somebody else. Then a Baptist 
preacher was called ; who seeing the bishop's civility 
to my father, in suffering him to keep on his hat, 
thought to take the same liberty. At whom the 
bishop put on a stern countenance, and said, " Don't 
you know this is the king's court, and that I sit here 
to represent his majesty's person? and do you come 
here in an uncivil and irreverent manner, in con- 
tempt of his majesty and this court, with your hat 
on ? I confess there are some men in this world who 
make a conscience of putting off their hats, to whom 
we ought to have some regard. But for you, who 
can put it off to every mechanic you meet, to come 
here, in contempt of authority, with it on, I '11 as- 
sure you, friend, you shall speed never the better for 
it." I heard my father say, " These words came so 
honestly from the bishop, that it did him good to 
hear him." The Baptist then taking off his hat, 
said, " An 't please you, my lord, I han't been well 
in my head." 



JOHN ROBERTS. 35 

Bishop, Why you have got a cap on ; nay, you 
have two caps on. [He had a black one over a 
white one.] What is the reason for denying your 
children the holy ordinance of baptism ? 

Baptist An 't please you, my lord, I am not well 
satisfied about it. 

Bishop. What is the ground of your dissatisfac- 
tion ? Did you ever see a book I published, entitled 
The Order of Baptism f 

Baptist No, my lord. 

Bishop. I thought so. Then telling him how and 
where he might get it, he gave him a space of time 
to peruse it in ; and told him, " If that would not sat- 
isfy him, to come to him, and he would give him 
full satisfaction." 

Some time after the bishop sent his bailiff to take 
my father ; but he was then gone to Bristol with 
George Fox. The officers came several times and 
searched the house for him, pretending they only 
wanted him for a small trespass, which would soon 
be made up, if they could see him. My mother an- 
swered, " She did not believe any neighbour he had 
would trouble him upon such an account ; for if by 
chance any of his cattle trespassed upon any, he 
would readily make him satisfaction, without further 
trouble." Which they very well knew. However, 
ghe always treated them civilly, and frequently set 
meat and drink before them. My father staying 

C 



86 MEMOIRS OF 

away longer than was expected, they imagined he 
absconded for fear of them ; and therefore offered my 
mother, if she would give them twenty shillings, to 
let him come home for a month ; but she told them, 
she knew of no wrong he had done to any man, and 
therefore would give them no money ; for that would 
imply a consciousness of guilt. But, said she, if my 
enemy hunger, I can feed him ; and if he thirst, I 
can give him drink. Upon this they flew into a 
rage, and said they would have him if he was above 
ground; for none could pardon him but the king. 
My father returning homewards, through Tedbury, 
was there informed that the bailiffs had been about 
his house almost ever since he went from home. He 
therefore contrived to come home after daylight. 
When he came into his own grounds, the moon 
shining bright, he spied the shadow of a man, and 
asked, Who 's there ? It 's I, said the man. 

J". Roberts, Who ? Sam. Stubbs ? 

Sam, Stubbs. Yes, master. 

J, Roberts. Hast thou any thing against me ? [He 
was a bailiff.] 

S. Stubbs. No, master. I might ; but I would not 
meddle. I have wronged you enough already, God 
forgive me. But those who now lie in wait for you 
are the Paytons, my lord bishop's bailiffs. I would 
not have you fall into their hands, for they are mer- 
ciless rogues. I would have you, master, take my 



JOHN ROBERTS. 37 

counsel : " Ever while you live please a knave ; for 
an honest man won't hurt you." My father came 
home, and desired us not to let the bailiffs in upon 
him that night, that he might have an opportunity 
of taking counsel on his pillow. In the morning he 
told my mother what he had seen that night in a 
vision. I thought, said he, I was walking in a fine, 
pleasant, green way ; but it was narrow, and had a 
wall on each side of it. In my way lay something 
like a bear, but more dreadful. The sight of it put 
me to a stand. A man, seeing me surprised, came 
to me with a smiling countenance, and said, " Why 
art afraid, friend ? It is chained, and can't hurt 
thee." I thought I made answer, " The way is so 
narrow, I can't pass by but it may reach me." 
" Don't be afraid," said the man, ** it can't hurt 
thee." I saw he spake in great good-will, and 
thought his face shone like the face of an angel. 
Upon which I took courage, and stepping forward, 
laid my hand upon his head. The construction he 
made of this to my mother was : " Truth is a narrow 
way ; and this bishop lies in my way : I must go to 
him, whatever I suffer." So he arose, set forward, 
and called upon Amariah Drewett, a Friend of Cir- 
encester, to accompany him. When they came to 
the bishop's house, (at Cleave, near Gloucester,) they 
found a butcher's wife of Cirencester, who was come 
to intercede for her husband, who was put into the 



38 MEMOIRS OF 

bishop's court for killing meat on First Days. Two 
young sparks of the bishop's attendance were asking 
her if she knew John Hayward? She answered, 
"Yes, very well." "What is he for a man?" said 
they. " A very good man," said she, " setting aside 
his religion : but I have nothing to say to that." 
One of them said he would give five shillings to see 
him ; the other ofiered eight. Upon which my father 
stepp'd up to them ; but they said not one word to him. 
One of them presently informed the bishop he was 
come. Whereupon the bishop dismissed his com- 
pany, and had him up stairs. My father found him 
seated in his chair, w^ith his hat under his arm, 
assuming a majestic air. My father stood silent 
awhile ; and seeing the bishop did not begin with 
him, he approached nearer, and thus accosted him : 
Old man, my business is with thee. 

Bishop. What is your business with me ? 

J, Roberts. I have heard thou hast sent out thy 
bailiffs to take me : but I rather chose to come my- 
self, to know what wrong I have done thee. If it 
appear I have done thee any, I am ready to make 
thee satisfaction ; but if, upon inquiry, I appear to 
be innocent, I desire thee for thy own soul's sake not 
to injure me. 

Bishop. You are misinformed, friend ; I am not 
your adversary. 

J. R, Then I desire thee to tell me who is my ad- 



JOHN ROBERTS. 39 

versary, that I may go and agree with him while I 
am in the way. 

Bishop, The king is your adversary. The king's 
laws you have broken ; and to the king you shall 
answer. 

X B. Our subjection to the laws is either active or 
passive. So that if a man can't for conscience-sake, 
do the thing the law requires, but passively suffers 
what the law inflicts, the law, I conceive, is as fully 
answered as if he had actually obeyed. 

Bishop. You are wrong in that too ; for suppose a 
man steal an ox, and he be taken and hanged for 
the fact, what restitution is that to the owner? 

J. B, None at all. But though it is no restitution 
to the owner, yet the law is fully satisfied. Though 
the owner be a loser, the criminal has suffered the 
punishment the law inflicts, as an equivalent for the 
crime committed. But thou mayst see the corrupt- 
ness of such laws, which put the life of a man upon 
a level with the life of a beast. 

Bishop. What ! do such men as you find fault with 
the laws ? 

J. B. Yes: and I'll tell thee plainly, 'tis high 
time wiser men were chosen, to make better law^s. 
For if this thief was taken and sold for a proper 
term, according to the law of Moses, and the owner 
had four oxen for his ox, and four sheep for his 
sheep, he would be well satisfied, and the man's life 
4 



40 MEMOIRS OF 

preserved, that he might repent, and amend his 
ways. But I hope thou dost not accuse me of hav- 
ing stolen any man's ox or ass ! 

Bishop. No, no ; God forbid ! 

J", i?. Then, if thou pleasest to give me leave, I 'II 
state a case more parallel to the matter in hand. 

Bishop, You may. 

J". jB. There lived in days past Nebuchadnezzar, 
king of Babylon, who set up an image, and made 
a decree, that all who would not bow down to it, 
should be cast the same hour into a burning fiery 
furnace. There were then three young men, who 
served the same God that I do now, and these durst 
not bow down to it ; but passively submitted their 
bodies to the flames. Was not that a suflScient sat- 
isfaction to the unjust decree of the king ? 

Bishop. Yes ; God forbid else ! For that was to 
worship the workmanship of men's hands ; which is 
idolatry. 

J. E. Is that thy judgment, that to worship the 
workmanship of men's hands is idolatry ? 

Bishop. Yes, certainly. 

J. R. Then give me leave to ask thee, by whose 
hands the Common Prayer-Book was made. I am 
sure it was made by somebody's hands, for it could 
not make itself. 

Bishop. Do you compare our Common Prayer- 
Book to Nebuchadnezzar's image t 



JOHN EGBERTS. 41 

J", i?. Yes, I do : that was his image, and this is 
thine. And be it known unto thee, I speak it in the 
dread of the God of heaven, I no more dare bow 
to thy Common Prayer-Book than the three children 
to Nebuchadnezzar's image. 

Bishop, Yours is a strange upstart religion of a 
very few years' standing ; and you are grown so con- 
fident in it, that there is no beating you out of it. 

Jl R. Out of my religion ! God forbid ! I was a 
long time seeking acquaintance with the living God 
amongst the dead forms of worship, and inquiring 
after the right way and worship of God, before I 
could find it ; and now, I hope, neither thou nor any 
man living shall be able to persuade me out of it. 
But though thou art an ancient man, and a bishop, 
I find thou art very ignorant of the rise and antiquity 
of our religion. 

Bishop, [smiling.] Do you Quakers pretend an- 
tiquity for your religion ? 

J. R, Yes ; and I don't question but, with the 
help of God, I can make it appear, that our religion 
was many hundred years before thine was thought of. 

Bishop, You see I have given you liberty of dis- 
course, and have not sought to ensnare you in your 
words ; but if you can make the Quakers' religion 
appear to be many hundred years older than mine, 
you '11 speed the better. 

/. R, If I do not, I seek no favour at thy hands; 



42 MEMOIRS OF 

and in order to do it, I hope thou wilt give me lib- 
erty to ask a few sober questions. 

Bishop. You may. 

J. R. Then first I would ask thee, Where was thy 
religion in Oliver's days? The Common Prayer- 
Book was then become (even among the clergy) like 
an old almanac, very few regarding it in our coun- 
try. There were two or three priests indeed who 
stood honestly to their principle, and sufiered pretty 
much ; but the far greater number turned with the 
tide, and we have reason to believe, that if Oliver 
would have put mass into their mouths, they would 
have conformed even to that for their bellies. 

Bishop, What would you have us do ? Would you 
have had Oliver cut our throats ? 

J, R. No, by no means. But what religion was 
that you were afraid to venture your throats for? 
Be it known to thee, I ventured my throat for my 
religion in Oliver's days, as I do now. 

Bishop, And I must tell you, though in Oliver's 
days I did not dare own it as I now do, yet I never 
owned any other religion. 

J, R. Then I suppose thou madst a conscience of 
it ; and I should abundantly rather choose to fall in 
such a man's hands, than into the hands of one who 
makes no conscience towards God, but will conform 
to any thing for his belly. But if thou didst not 
think thy religion worth venturing thy throat for in 



JOHN ROBERTS. 43 

Oliver's days, I desire thee to consider, it is not worth 
cutting other men's throats now for not conforming 
to it. 

Bishop. You say right: I hope we shall have a 
care how we cut men's throats. [Several others were 
now come into the room.] But you know the Com- 
mon Prayer-Book was before Oliver's days. 

J. R. Yes : I have a great deal of reason to know 
that; for I was bred up under a common prayer 
priest, and a poor drunken old man he was. Some- 
times he was so drunk he could not say his prayers, 
and at best he could but say them ; though I think 
he was by far a better man than he that is priest 
there now. 

Bishop, Who is your minister now ? 

X B, My minister is Christ Jesus, the minister of 
the everlasting covenant ; but the present priest of 
the parish is George Bull. 

Bishop. Do you say that drunken old man was 
better than Mr. Bull? I tell you, I account Mr. 
Bull as sound, able, and orthodox a divine as any 
we have among us. 

J. R. I am sorry for that ; for if he be one of the 
best of you, I believe the Lord will not suffer you 
long ; for he is a proud, ambitious, ungodly man ; he 
hath often sued me at law, and brought his servants 
to swear against me wrongfully. His servants them- 
selves have confessed to my servants, that I might 
4* 



44 MEMOIRS OF 

have their ears ; for their master made them drunk, 
and then told them they were set down in the list as 
witnesses against me, and they must swear to it ; and 
so they did, and brought treble damages. They like- 
wise owned they took tithes from my servants, 
thrashed them out, and sold them for their master. 
They have also several times took my cattle out of 
my grounds, drove them to fairs and markets, and 
sold them, without giving me any account. 

Bishop. I do assure you I will inform Mr. Bull of 
what you say. 

J. a. Very well. And if thou pleasest to send for 
me to face him, I shall make much more appear to 
his face than I '11 say behind his back. 

Bishop. But I remember you said you would make 
it appear, that your religion was long before mine, 
and that is what I want to hear you make out. 

J. R. Our religion, as thou mayst read in the 
scripture (John iv.) was set up by Christ himself, be- 
tween sixteen and seventeen hundred years ago ; and 
he had full power to establish the true religion in hi& 
church, when he told the woman of Samaria, that 
neither at that mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, was 
the place of true worship ; they worshipped they 
knew not what. For, said he, God is a Spirit, and 
they that worship him, must worship him in spirit 
and in truth. This is our religion, and hath ever 
been the religion of all those who have worshipped 



JOHN ROBERTS. 45 

God acceptably through the several ages since, down 
to this time ; and will be the religion of the true 
spiritual worshippers of God to the world's end ; a 
religion performed by the assistance of the Spirit of 
God, because God is a Spirit ; a religion established 
by Christ himself, before the mass-book, service-book, 
or directory, or any of those inventions or traditions 
of men, which, in the night of apostasy, were set up. 

Bishop. Are all the Quakers of the same opinion ? 

J. B, Yes, they are. If any hold doctrines con- 
trary to that taught by our Saviour to the woman of 
Samaria, they are not of us. 

Bishop. Do you own the Trinity? 

J. B. I don't remember such a word in the holy 
scriptures. 

Bishop. Do you own three persons ? 

J. B. I believe, according to the scripture, that 
there are three that bear record in heaven, and that 
these three are one ', thou mayst make as many per- 
sons of them as thou canst. But I would soberly 
ask thee, since the scriptures say, the heavens can- 
not contain him ; and that he is incomprehensible, 
by what person or likeness canst thou comprehend 
the Almighty ? 

Bishop. Yours is the strangest of all persuasions ; 
for though there are many sects [which he named], 
and though they and we differ in some circum- 
stances, yet in fundamentals we agree as one. But 



46 MEMOIRS OF 

I observe you, of all others, strike at the very root 
and basis of our religion, 

J, R, Art thou sensible of that? 

Bishop. Yes, I am. 

J, R. I am glad of that ; for the root is rottenness, 
and truth strikes at the very foundation thereof. 
That little stone which Daniel saw cut out of the 
mountain without hands, will overturn all in God's 
due time, when you have done all you can to sup- 
port it. But as to those others thou mentionest, 
there is so little difference between you, that wise 
men wonder why you differ at all ; only we read, 
" the beast had many heads, and many horns, which 
push against each other." And yet I am fully per- 
suaded there are in this day many true spiritual 
worshippers in all persuasions. 

Bishop, But you will not give us the same liberty 
you give a common mechanic, to call our tools by 
the same names. 

J, R, I desire thee to explain thyself. 

Bishop, Why, you will give a carpenter leave to 
call his gimlet a gimlet and his gouge a gouge ; but 
you call our church a mass-house. 

J, R. I wish you were half so honest men as 
carpenters. 

Bishop, Why do you upbraid us ? 

J, R. I would not upbraid you ; but I '11 en- 
deavour to show you wherein you fall short of car- 



JOHN ROBERTS. 47 

penters. Suppose I have a son intended to learn 
the trade of a carpenter ; I indent with an honest 
man of that calling, in consideration of so much 
money, to teach my son his trade in such a term of 
years ; at the end of which term my son may be as 
good, or perhaps a better workman than his master, 
and he shall be at liberty from him to follow the 
business for himself. Now will you be so honest as 
this carpenter ? You are men who pretend to know 
more of light, life, and salvation, and things pertain- 
ing to the kingdom of heaven, than we do. I would 
ask in how long a time you would undertake to teach 
us as much as you know ; and what shall we give you, 
that we may be once free from our masters? But 
here you keep us always learning, that we may be 
always paying you. Plainly, 'tis a very cheat. What ! 
always learning, and never able to come to the 
knowledge of God ! Miserable sinners you found 
us, and miserable sinners you leave us ! 

Bishop. Are you against confession ? 

J". R. No: for I believe those who confess and 
forsake their sins, shall find mercy at the hand of 
God ; but those who persist in them shall be pun- 
ished. But if ever you intend to be better, you must 
throw away your old book, and get a new one, or 
turn over a new leaf; for if you keep on in your old 
lesson, you must be always doing what you ought 
not, and leaving undone what you ought to do, and 



48 MEMOIRS OF 

you can never do worse. I believe in my heart you 
mock God. 

Bishop. How dare you say so ? 

J, i?. I '11 state the case, and thou shalt judge. 
Suppose thou hadst a son, and thou shouldst daily 
let him know what thou wouldst have him do, and* 
he should, day by day, week by week, and year after 
year, provoke thee to thy face, and say, father, I 
have not done what thou commandest me to do; 
but have done quite the contrary ; and continue to 
provoke thee to thy face in this manner once or 
oftener every week ; wouldst thou not think him a 
rebellious child, and that his application to thee was 
mere mockery, and would it not occasion thee to 
disinherit him? Aftfer some more discourse, my 
father told him, time was far spent ; and, said he, if 
nothing will serve thee but my body in a prison, 
here it is in thy power ; and if thou commandest me 
to deliver myself up, either to the sheriff, or to the 
jailer of Gloucester castle, as thy prisoner, I will go, 
and seek no other judge, advocate, or attorney to 
plead my cause, but the great Judge of heaven and 
earth, who knows I have nothing but love and good- 
will in my heart to thee and all mankind. 

Bishop. No ; you shall go home about your busi- 
ness. 

J. R. Then I desire thee, for the future, not to 
trouble thyself to send any more bailiffs after me ; 



JOHN ROBERTS. 49 

for if thou pleasest at any time to let me know, by 
a line or two, that thou wouldst speak with me, 
though it be to send me to prison, if I am well and 
able, I '11 come. 

The bishop then called for something to drink ; 
but my father acknowledged his kindness, and ex- 
cused himself from drinking. And the bishop being 
called out of the room, one Cuthbert, who took of- 
fence at my father's freedom with the bishop, said, 
" Hayward, you 're afraid of nothing ; I never met 
with such a man in my life. I'm afraid of my life, 
lest such fanatics as you should cut my throat as I 
sleep." 

J, B. I don't wonder that thou art afraid. 

Cuthbert. Why should I be afraid any more than 
you? 

J. B. Because I am under the protection of him 
who numbereth the very hairs of my head, and with- 
out whose providence a sparrow shall not fall to the 
ground ; but thou hast Cain's mark of envy on thy 
forehead, and, like him, art afraid that whoever 
meets thee should kill thee. 

Cuthbert (in a great rage.) If all the Quakers in 
England are not hanged in a month's time, I '11 be 
hanged for them. 

J, R, (smiling.) Prithee, friend, remember, and 
be as good as thy word. 

My father and his friend Amariah Drewett then 



50 MEMOIRS OF 

took their leave, and returned home with the an- 
swer of peace in their bosoms. 

Some time after this, the bishop and the chan- 
cellor, in their coaches, accompanied with Thomas 
Masters, Esq., in his coach, and about twenty cler- 
gymen on horseback, made my father's house in 
their way to the visitation, which was to be at Ted- 
bury the next day. They stopped at the gate, and 
George Evans, the bishop's kinsman, rode into the 
yard to call my father ; who coming to the bishop's 
coach-side, he put out his hand, (which my father 
respectfully took), saying, " I could not well go out 
of the county without seeing you." That's very 
kind, said my father ; wilt thou please to alight and 
come in, with those who are along with thee ? 

Bishop, I thank you, John ; we are going to Ted- 
bury, and time will not admit of it now ; but I will 
drink with you if you please. 

My father w^ent in, and ordered some drink to be 
brought, and then returned to the coach-side. 

Geo. Evans, John, is your house free to entertain 
such men as we are ? 

J, jB. Yes, George ; I entertain honest men, and 
sometimes others. 

G, Evans, (to the bishop.) My lord, John's friends 
are the honest men, and we are the others. 

J, R. That 's not fair, George, for thee to put thy 
construction on my words ; thou shouldst have given 
me leave to do that. 



JOHN ROBERTS. 51 

'Squire Masters came out of his coach, and stood 
by the bishop's coach-side ; and the chancellor, in a 
diverting humour, said to my father, "My lord and 
these gentlemen have been to see your burying 
ground, and we think you keep it very decent." 
[This piece of ground my father had given to Friends 
for that purpose; it lay at the lower end of his 
orchard.] My father answered, " Yes, though we are 
against pride, we think it commendable to be decent.'' 

Chancellor, But there is one thing among you 
which I did not expect to see; I think it looks a 
little superstitious ; I mean those grave-stones which 
are placed at the head and feet of your graves. 

J, R. That I confess is what I cannot much plead 
for ; but it was permitted to gratify some who had 
their relations there interred. We, notwithstanding, 
propose to have them taken up erelong, and con- 
verted to some better use. But I desire thee to take 
notice, we had it from among you ; and I have ob- 
served in many things wherein we have taken you 
for a pattern, you have led us wrong ; and therefore 
we are now resolved, with the help of God, not to 
follow you one step further. 

At this the bishop smiled, and said, "John, I think 
your beer is long a coming." 

e7. R, I suppose my wife is willing thou shouldst 
have the best, and therefore stays to broach a fresh 
vessel. 

5 D 



52 MEMOIRS OF 

Bishop, Nay, if it be for the best, we '11 stay. 

Presently my mother brought the drink; and when 
the bishop had drank, he said, "/ commend you, 
John; you keep a cup of good beer in your house. I 
have not drank any that has pleased me better since 
I came from home." The chancellor drank next; 
and the cup coming round again to my father's 
hand, 'Squire Masters said to him, " Now, old school- 
fellow, I hope you '11 drink to me." 

J, R. Thou knowest it is not my practice to drink 
to any man ; if it was, I would as soon drink to thee 
as another, being my old acquaintance and school- 
fellow ; but if thou art pleased to drink, thou art 
very welcome. 

The 'Squire, then taking his cup into his hand, 
said, '^ Now, John, before my lord and all those 
gentlemen, tell me what ceremony or compliment 
do you Quakers use when you drink to one an- 
other?" 

J. R. None at all. For me to drink to another 
and drink the liquor, is at best but a compliment, 
and that borders much on a lie. 

'Squire Masters. What do you do then ? 

J". R. Why if I have a mind to drink, I take the 
cup and drink ; and if my friend pleases, he does the 
same ; if not he may let it alone. 

'Squire Masters, Honest John, give me thy hand, 
here 's to thee with all my heart ; and, according to 



JOHN ROBERTS, 53 

thy own compliment, if thou wilt drink, thou mayst ; 
if not, thou mayst let it alone. 

My father then offering the cup to Priest Bull, he 
refused it, saying, " It is full of hops and heresy." 
To which my father replied, " As for hops I cannot 
say much, not being at the brewing of it; but as 
for heresy, I do assure thee, neighbour Bull, there is 
none in my beer ; and if thou pleasest to drink, thou 
art welcome ; but if not, I desire thee to take notice, 
as good as thou will, and those who are as well able 
to judge of heresy. Here thy lord bishop hath drank 
of it, and commends it ; he finds no heresy in the 
cup." 

Bishop, [leaning over the coach-door, and whis- 
pering to my father, said], John, I advise you to 
take care you don't offend against the higher powers. 
I have heard great complaints against you, that you 
are the ringleader of the Quakers in this country ; 
and that if you are not suppressed, all will signify 
nothing. Therefore, pray, John, take care for the 
future, you don't offend any more. 

J. R, I like thy counsel very well, and intend to 
take it. But thou knowest God is the higher power ; 
and you mortal men, however advanced in this 
world, are but the lower power ; and it is only be- 
cause I endeavour to be obedient to the will of the 
higher powers, that the lower powers are angry with 
me. But I hope, with the assistance of God, to take 



54 MEMOIRS OF 

thy counsel, and be subject to the higher powers, let 
the lower powers do with me as it may please God 
to suffer them. 

Bishop. I want some more discourse with you. 
Will you go with me to Mr. Bull's ? 

J, JR. Thou knowest he hath no good-will for me. 
I had rather attend on thee elsewhere. 

Bishop. Will you come to-morrow to Tedbury ? 

J. R. Yes, if thou desirest it. 

Bishop. Well, I do. The bishop then took his 
leave, and went not to George Bull's, at which he 
was very much offended. 

Next morning my father took his son Nathaniel 
with him, in case the bishop (in compliance with the 
violent clamours of the priests) should send him to 
prison, which he expected. As they were passing 
along a street in Tedbury, they were met by Anthony 
Sharp, of Ireland, whose mother lived at Tedbury. 
After he understood by my father where he was 
going, he asked him if he would accept of a com- 
panion ? " If thou hast a mind to go to prison," 
says my father, "thou mayst go with me." "I'll 
venture that," replied Anthony, " for if I do, I shall 
have good company." When they came to the foot 
of the stairs which led up to the bishop's chamber, 
they were espied by George Evans, who said, " Come 
up, John, my lord thought you long." When they 
came up, the bishop was just sitting down to dinner, 



JOHN ROBERTS. 55 

with a number of clergymen, and offering to make 
room for my father, he excused himself, and retired 
with his friend till dinner was over. The bishop 
spoke to the woman of the house for another room, 
which (it being market-day) was soon filled with 
priests and clothiers. 

Bishopy [putting on a stern countenance, said], 
Come, John, I must turn over a new leaf with you. 
If you will not promise me to go to church, and to 
keep no more of these seditious conventicles at your 
house, I must make your mittimus, and send you to 
prison. 

J. R. Would thou have me shut my doors against 
my friends ? It was but yesterday that thou thyself, 
and many others here present, were at my house ; and 
I was so far from shutting my doors against you, that 
I invited you in, and you should have been welcome 
to the best entertainment I had. 

Bishop. It is those meetings I speak of which you 
keep at your house, to the terror of the country. 

J. R. This I '11 promise thee, before all this com- 
pany, that if any plotters or ill-minded persons come 
to my house, to plot or conspire against the king or 
government, if I know it, I '11 be the first informer 
against them myself, though I have not a penny for 
my labour. But if honest and sober people come to 
my house, to wait upon and worship the God of 
heaven, in spirit and in truth, such shall be welcome 
5^ 



56 MEMOIKS OF 

to me as long as I have a house for them to meet in ; 
and if I should have none, the Lord will provide one 
for them. 

Bishop, Will you promise to go to your own parish 
church, to hear divine service ? 

J. R. I can promise no such thing. The last time 
I was there, I was moved and required of the Lord, 
whom I serve, to bear my testimony against a hire- 
ling priest, who was preaching for hire, and divining 
for money ; and he was angry with me, and caused 
the people to turn me out. And I don't intend to 
trouble him again till he learn more civility, except 
the Lord require it of me. 

Bishop. Send for the constable; I must take an- 
other course. 

J. R. If thou shouldst come to my house under a 
pretence of friendship, and, in a Judas-like manner, 
betray me hither to send me to prison ; as I have hith- 
erto commended thee for thy moderation, I should 
then have occasion to put thy name in print, and 
cause it to stink before all sober people. But it is 
those priests who set thee on mischief. I would not 
have thee hearken to them ; but bid them take up 
some honest vocation, and rob their honest neigh- 
bours no longer. They are like a company of cater- 
pillars, who destroy the fruits of the earth, and live 
on the fruits of other men's labours. 

The priest Rich, of North Surrey, said, who are 
those you call caterpillars ? 



JOHN ROBERTS. 57 

J". B. We husbandmen call them caterpillars who 
live on the fruits of other men's fields and on the 
sweat of other men's brows. And if thou dost so, 
thou mayst be one of them. 

Rich. May it please your lordship, if you suffer 
such a man as this to thou your lordship, and call 
you old man, what will become of us ? 

J, B. We honor old age, if it be found in the way 
of well doing ; but one would not think you would 
be such dunces as to forget grammar rules. You 
bred up at Oxford and Cambridge ; for what ! I, that 
am a layman, and bred up at plough-tail, understand 
the singular and plural numbers. Thee and thou is 
proper to a single person, if it be to a prince ; thou 
knowest it, old man. What ! have you forgot your 
prayers? Is it you, O Lord, or thou, O Lord, in 
your prayers? Will you not accept the same lan- 
guage from your fellow-mortals which you give to 
the Almighty? What spirit was that in proud 
Haman, that would have poor Mordecai to bow to 
him? 

Bishop, This won't do. Make their mittimuses. 
What 's your name ? 

Anthony Sharp, My name is Anthony Sharp. 

Bishop. Where do you live ? 

A. S, At Dublin, in the kingdom of Ireland. 

Bishop. What 's your business here ? 

A. S. My mother lives in this town. And as she 



68 MEMOIRS OF 

is such, and an ancient woman, I thought it my duty 
to come and see her. 

J". B, He only came hither in good-will to bear me 
company. If thou please, lay the more on me, and 
let him go free. 

Bishop, No ; he may be as dangerous a person as 
yourself; and as you came for company, you shall 
go for company. Send for the constable to take 
them into custody. 

The woman of the house, understanding the consta- 
ble was to be sent for, dispatches a messenger to him to 
bid him get out of the way ; but the messenger miss- 
ing him, he came to the house by accident ; to whom 
the landlady said, " What do you here, when honest 
John Hayward is going to be sent to prison ? Here, 
come along with me." The constable being willing 
she concealed him in another room ; and the bishop's 
messenger bringing him word that the constable was 
not to be found, he said to my father, 

Bishop, Here are many gentlemen who have a 
great way home, and I can send you to prison in the 
afternoon ; so you may take your liberty till six 
o'clock. 

My father perceived his intent was to get rid of 
his company. So he withdrew, with his friend An- 
thony Sharp ; and at six o'clock returned without 
him, and found only two persons with him, i, e, Ed- 
ward Barnet, a surgeon of Cockerton, and parsson 
Hall. 



JOHN ROBERTS. 59 

Bishop. So, John, you are come. 'Tis well; I 
want some more discourse with you. 

Parson Hall An 't please you, my lord, let me dis- 
course him. 

Bishop, Ay, do, Mr. Hall ; John will give you an 
answer. 

P. H. 'T is a great pity such men as you should 
have the light, sight, and knowledge of the scrip- 
tures; for the knowledge of the scriptures hath made 
you mad. 

J, R, Why should not I have the privilege of 
buying the scriptures for my money, as well as thou 
or any other man ? But you priests, like the Papists, 
would have us laymen kept in ignorance, that we 
might pin our faith on your sleeves ; and so the blind 
lead the blind till both fall into the ditch. But if 
the knowledge of the scriptures hath made me mad, 
the knowledge of the sack-pot hath almost made thee 
mad ; and if we two mad men should dispute about 
religion, we should make mad work of it. But as 
thou art an unworthy man, I '11 not dispute with thee. 

P. H, An't please you, my lord, he says I am 
drunk. 

J, R. Wilt thou speak an untruth before thy lord 
bishop ? 

P. H. He did say I was drunk, my lord. 

Bishop, What did you say, John? I'll believe 
you. 



60 MEMOIRS OF 

My father repeating what he said before, the 
bishop held up his hands, and (smiling) said, " Did 
you say so, John ? " By which Hall perceiving the 
bishop did not incline to favour him, went aw^ay in a 
huff. The bishop then directing his discourse to my 
father, said, " John, I thought you dealt hardly with 
me to-day, in telling me, before so many gentlemen, 
that I came to your house in a Judas-like manner, 
and betrayed you hither to send you to prison ; for 
if I had not done what I did, people would have 
reported me an encourager of the Quakers." 

J, R. If they had, it would have been no discredit 
to thee. 

Bishop, Come now, John, I'll burn your mitti- 
muses before your face. And now, Mr. Barnet, I 
have a mind to ask John some questions. John, I have 
heard Mr. Bull say strange things of you ; that you 
can tell where to find any thing that is lost as well 
as any cunning man. But I desire to hear it from 
your own mouth. It was about some cows that a 
neighbour had lost, and could nowhere find them 
until he applied to you. 

J. B. If thou pleases t to hear me, I '11 tell thee the 
truth of that story. 

Bishop. Pray, do ; I shall believe you, John. 

J, B. I had a poor neighbour, who had a wife and 
six children, and whom the chief men about us per- 
mitted to keep six or seven cow^s upon the waste, 



JOHTSr ROBERTS* 61 

which were the principal support of the family, and 
preserved them from becoming chargeable to the 
parish. One very stormy night the cattle were left 
in the yard as usual, but could not be found in the 
morning. The man and his sons had sought them 
to no purpose ; and after they had been lost four 
days, his wife came to me, and, in a great deal of 
grief, cried, " O Lord ! master Hayward, we are un- 
done ! My husband and I must go a begging in our 
old age ! We have lost all our cows. My husband 
and the boys have been round the country, and can 
hear nothing of them. I'll down on my bare 
knees if you '11 stand our friend ! " I desired she 
should not be in such an agony, and told her she 
should not down on her knees to me ; but I would 
gladly help them in what I could. " I know," said 
she, " you are a good man, and God will hear your 
prayers." I desire thee, said I, to be still and quiet 
in thy mind ; perhaps thy husband or sons may hear 
of them to-day ; if not, let thy husband get a horse, 
and come to me to-morrow morning as soon as he 
will ; and I think, if it please God, to go with him 
to seek them. The woman seemed transported with 
joy, crying, " Then we shall have our cows again.'' 
Her faith being so strong, brought the greater exer- 
cise on me, with strong cries to the Lord, that he 
would be pleased to make me instrumental in his 
hand, for the help of the poor family. In the morn- 



62 MEMOIRS OF 

ing early comes the old man. " In the name of 
God," says he, " which way shall we go to seek 
them ? " I, being deeply concerned in my mind, did 
not answer him till he had thrice repeated it ; and 
then I answered, " In the name of God I would go 
to seek them ; " and said, before I was well aware, 
"we ^Yi]l go to Malmsbury, and at the horse fair 
we shall find them." When I had spoken the words, 
I was much troubled lest they should not prove true. 
It was very early, and the first man we saw, I asked 
him if he had seen any stray milch cows thereabouts? 
"What manner of cattle are they?" said he. And 
the old man describing their marks and numbers, 
he told us there were some stood chewing their cuds 
in the horse fair; but thinking they belonged to 
some in the neighbourhood, he did not take particu- 
lar notice of them. When we came to the place, the 
old man found them to be his ; but sufiered his trans- 
ports of joy to rise so high, that I was ashamed of 
his behaviour ; for he fell a hallooing, and threw up 
his montier cap in the air several times, till he raised 
the neighbours out of their beds to see what was the 
matter. " O ! " said he, " I had lost my cows four 
or five days ago, and thought I should never see 
them again; and this honest neighbour of mine told 
me this morning, by his own fire's side, nine miles 
off*, that here I should find them, and here I have 
them ! " Then up goes his cap again. I begged of 
the poor man to be quiet, and take his cows home, 



JOHN EGBERTS. 63 

and be thankful ; as indeed I was, being reverently 
bowed in my spirit before the Lord, in that he was 
pleased to put the words of truth into my mouth. 
And the man drove his cattle home, to the great joy 
of his family. 

Bishop, I remember another Mr. Bull told me, 
about a parcel of sheep a neighbour had lost, and 
you told him where to find them. 

J. R. The truth of the story is this : A neighbour 
of mine, one John Curtis, (at that time a domestic 
o&George Bull's,) kept some sheep of his own ; and it 
so fell out, that he lost them for some days ; but hap- 
pening to see me, and knowing I went pretty much 
abroad, he desired me, if I should see them anywhere 
in my travels, to let him know it. It happened the 
next day, as I was riding towards my own field, my 
dogs being with me, put up a hare, and seeing they were 
likely to kill her, I rode up to take them off, that she 
might escape ; and, by mere accident, I espied John 
Curtis's sheep in one corner of the field, in a thick, 
briery part of the hedge, wherein they stood as secure 
as if they had been in a pound. I suppose they had 
been driven hither by the hounds. When I came 
home I sent him word of it. And though this is no 
more than a common accident, I find George Bull 
hath endeavoured to improve it to my disadvantage. 

Bishop, I remember one story more he told me 
about a horse. 
6 



64 MEMOIRS OF 

J. B. If I shan't tire thy patience, I '11 acquaint 
thee how that was : One Edward Symmons came 
from London to see his parents at Siddington. They 
put his horse to grass in some ground, with their 
own, beyond a part of mine, called the Fursen 
Leases, through which they went wdth the horse; 
and when they wanted to take him from grass, they 
could not find him. After he had been lost some 
time, and they cried him at several market towns, 
somebody (who, 't is likely, might have heard the 
former stories told, as thou mightest hear them) 
directed this Edward Symmons to me ; who telling 
me the case, I asked him which way they had the 
horse to grass? He answered, through the Fursen 
Leases. I told him the horse being a stranger m 
the place, 'twas very likely he might endeavour to 
bend homewards, and lose himself in the Fursen 
Leases ; for there are a great many acres belonging 
to me and others, under that name, which are so 
overgrown with furze bushes, that a horse may lie 
there concealed a long time. I therefore advised 
him to get a good deal of company, and search the 
places diligently, as if they were beating for a hare ; 
which if he did, I was of the mind he would find him. 
The man did take my advice, and found him. And 
where is the cunning of all this ? 'T is no more than 
their own reason might have directed them to, had 
they properly considered the case. 



JOHN ROBERTS. 65 

Bishop, I wanted to hear these stories from your 
own mouth ; though I did not, nor should have 
credited them, in the sense Mr. Bull related them ; 
but I believe you, John. And now, Mr. Barnet, 
we '11 ask John some serious questions. I can com- 
pare him to nothing but a good ring of bells. You 
know, Mr. Barnet, a ring of bells may be made of as 
good metal as can be put into bells ; but they may 
be out of tune. So we may say of John ; he is a man 
of as good metal as ever I met with ; but he 's quite 
out of tune. 

J, J?. Thou mayst well say so; for I can't tune 
after thy pipe. 

Bishop. Well, John, I remember to have read, at 
the preaching of the apostle, the heart of Lydia was 
opened. Can you tell us what it was that opened 
Lydia's heart? 

J, R, I believe I can. 

Bishop, I thought so. I desire you to do it. 

J. B, It was nothing but the key of David. 

Bishop, Nay, now, John, I think you are going 
wrong. 

J, R, If thou pleasest to speak, I '11 hear thee ; but 
if thou wouldst have me speak, I desire thee to hear 
me. 

Bishop, Come, Mr. Barnet, we '11 hear John. 

J, R, It is written, thou hast the key of David, 
which opens, and none can shut ; and if thou shut- 



66 MEMOIRS OF 

test none can open. And that is no other but the 
Spirit of our Lord Jesus Christ. It was the same 
spiritual key that opened the heart of Moses, the 
first penman of the scripture, and gave him a sight 
of things from the beginning. It was the same spir- 
itual key that opened the hearts of all the holy 
patriarchs, prophets, and apostles, in ages past, who 
left their experience of the things of God upon rec- 
ord ; which if they had not done, your bishops and 
priests would not have had anything to make a trade 
of; for it is by telling the experiences of these holy 
men, that you get your great bishoprics and parson- 
ages ; and the same spiritual key hath, blessed be 
God, opened the hearts of thousands in this age ; and 
the same spiritual key hath, in a measure, opened 
my heart, and given me to distinguish thiugs that 
differ ; and it must be the same that must open thy 
heart, if ever thou comest to have it truly opened. 

Bishop, It is the truth, the very truth. I never 
heard it ^o defined before. John, I have done you 
much wrong ; I desire you to forgive me, and I '11 
never wrong you more. 

J. R, I do heartily forgive thee, as far as it is in 
my power ; and I truly pray the Father of mercies 
may forgive thee, and make thee his. As to the 
latter part, that thou wilt never wrong me more, I 
am of the same mind with thee ; for it is in my heart 
to tell thee, I shall never see thy fac, any more. 



JOHN ROBERTS. 67 

Bishop, I have heard you once told the jailer of 
Gloucester so, and it proved true. 

J. R. That jailer had been very cruel to me, and 
the rest of our friends, who were then prisoners. He 
had kept us in the prison from the session to the 
assize, and from the assize to the sessions, omitting to 
put our names in the calendar, that we might not 
have a hearing. At length I found means, at an 
assize time, to acquaint the judge, by letter, of his 
illegal proceedings. In consequence of which, we 
were ordered to be put in the calendar, had a hear- 
ing, and were acquitted. The judge severely repri- 
manded the jailer, saying, " Sirrah 1 if ever I hear 
that you do the like for the future, I '11 take care 
that you shall be jailer here no longer. Shall I 
come here to hear and determine causes, and shall 
you keep men in prison during your pleasure, and 
not put their names in the calendar?" The jailer 
coming out of the court, was heard by the turnkey 
to say, " 'T was along of Hay ward that I was so 
severely reprimanded by the judge; and if ever he 
come into the castle again, he shall never come out 
alive." Upon which the turnkey took an opportu- 
nity to find me out ; and informing me of it, further 
said, "I would not have you by any means come 
back to the castle to-night to fetch any of your 
things; for if you do, he'll certainly detain you for 
his fees. I '11 take equal care of your things as if 
6* E 



68 MEMOIRS OF 

you yourself were present to do it." I acknowledged 
his kindness, and went home. When the jailer re- 
turned to the castle, he asked the turnkey where the 
Quakers were? He answered, "he thought it his 
business to take care of the felons, and to leave 
Quakers to him.'' Not long after, being constable, 
I secured a felon who broke out of the castle, and 
sent the turnkey notice of it. He coming over to 
fetch him back, begged, if by any means I could 
prevent it, that I would not come any more a pris- 
oner to the castle wdiile his master was jailer ; " for," 
says he, " if you do, he swears you shall never go out 
alive ; and that hour you come in, I '11 leave the 
castle, for I can't stay there to see you abused." 
** Does he still say so ? " said I. " Yes, he does," said 
he. " Then remember me to him," said I, " and tell 
him from me, I shall never see his face any more." 
Soon after it pleased God to take him away by death ; 
and in a little time I was had prisoner there again. 

This was the last conference my father had with 
the bishop, who died soon after. 

Some time after, our friends, having been kept out 
of their meeting-house at Cirencester a considerable 
time, had continued to meet in the street. But 
orders being given one day to permit them to meet 
in the house, they did ; and while Theophila Town- 
send was in prayer, the bishop, (successor to bishop 
Nicholson,) Sir John Guise, William Burcher, of 



JOHN ROBERTS. 69 

Barnsley, justice of peace, with a large company at- 
tending them, came in. The bishop laid his hand 
on Theophila's head, saying, *' Enough, good woman, 
enough ; desist, desist." When she had done, Rich- 
ard Bowley, of Cirencester, went to prayer. And 
when he had done. Sir John Guise asked his name. 

R. Bowley, My name is Richard Bowley. 

Sir J. Guise. Where do you live? 

B, B. In this town. 

Sir J. G. What trade are you? 

R. B. A maltster. 

Sir J, G, Set down Richard Bowley £20 for 
preaching. Whose house is this ? 

J, Roberts, This house hath many owners. 

Sir J, G. But who is the landlord ? 

J, R. One who is able to give us a quiet posses- 
sion of it. 

Sir J. G. I demand of you who is the landlord 
of it? 

J. R, The king is our landlord. 

Sir J, G, How is the king your landlord ? 

J. R. It is the king's land, and we pay the king's 
auditors. And we are not only his peaceable sub- 
jects, but also his good tenants, who pay him his 
rent. Therefore we have reason to hope he will give 
us peaceable possession of our bargain. 

Sir J, G. Who pays the king's auditors? 

R, B. I do. 



70 MEMOIRS OF 

Sir J. O. Set down Richard Bowley £20 for the 
house. 

J, R, Who is that, [speaking to the other jus- 
tices,] who is so forward to take names, and levy 
fines ? 

Jits, Burcher. Don't you know him ? 'T is Sir J. 
Guise. 

Sir J. G. What's that to you? What's your 
name? 

J, H, I am not ashamed of my name. But if thy 
name is John Guise, I knew thy father by a very 
remarkable incident; and I would have thee take 
warning by thy father. — A word to the wise is suffi- 
cient. 

Sir J, G. Here, constable, take this fellow and lay 
him by the heels ; he afironts me. 

J, a. My heels, man ! Fear and dread the living 
God. I am not afraid of being laid by the heels. 
The constable not being forward to obey his orders, 
he took my father by one arm, and bid the consta- 
ble take him by the other. So they led him into 
the street, and bid him go about his business. " I 
am about my busiuess," said my father ; and, on 
their going in again, my father followed them. 

Sir J. G. Hay ward, I thought I had you out. 
What do you do here again ? 

J. R. I come to see how thou behavest among 
my friends ; aud if thou dost not behave thyself well, 
I shall make bold to tell thee of it. 



JOHN ROBERTS, 71 

Sir J. G. I command you in the king's name to 
go out again. 

J. R, If thou pleasest to go out first, I '11 follow. 
With some pains he got all his friends out of the 
house, and ordered all the forms to be brought out 
into the street. Which was done. On which my 
father said, ** The seats are our own, and we may as 
well sit as stand,'' So the Friends sat down ; but 
-presently they were broke up and dispersed. Not 
long after, John Timbrel, a Friend of Cirencester, 
wrote to justice Burcher, and told him, amongst other 
things, he had till then a better opinion of him than 
to think he would set his hand to such a work ; and 
that he was sorry he should be one in it. Sir John 
being acquainted with it by justice Burcher, sent out 
a special warrant against J. Timbrel. The constable 
who had it to serve was so civil as to inform him of 
it, and tell him he would not serve it on him till the 
market was over. However, he left his market, came 
to my father, told him of the warrant, and asked his 
advice. My father advised him not to stay for the 
serving of the warrant, but go directly for Sir John. 
He engaging my father to accompany him, away they 
went. 

When they came before Sir John, J. Timbrel 
said, " I heard thou hast sent a warrant to bring me 
before thee ; but I chose rather to come without it." 

Sir John, What 's your name ? 



72 MEMOIRS OF 

J. TimhreL My name is John Timbrel. 

Sir J. Are you that sauey pragmatic fellow that 
wrote to Mr. Burcher, to deter him from executing 
the king's laws ? 

J. T, Hast thou seen the letter ? 

Sir J, No : but I have an account of it. 

J. R. Then, though thou art a young man, I desire 
thee to show thyself so much a wise man, as not to 
condemn any thing thou hast not seen. I have seen 
a copy of it, and think there is a great deal of good 
advice in it ; and I wish both thou and William 
Burcher were so wise as to take it. 

Sir J, I thought you were the writer or inditer of 
it, though Timbrel's name was to it. 

J, R. No, I was not. I knew nothing of it till 
after it was sent. 

Sir J". But I remember you affronted me t'other 
day, before a great number of people, concerning my 
father. Pray what do you know of my father ? 

J, H. Some time ago, several of my friends being 
met together with me, in a peaceable manner, to 
worship God at Stoke Orchard, thy father came in 
with a file of musqueteers at his heels, and beat and 
abused us very much. I then warned him in abun- 
dance of love. Yet he did not seem to regard it, but 
sent about twelve of us to Gloucester castle. I then 
told him God would plead our cause with him. And 
I was credibly informed, that (not the very night, 



JOHN ROBERTS. 73 

but) the next night after, he went to bed as well in 
appearance as usual ; but in the morning he not 
ringing a certain bell, which he had by him for that 
purpose, at the time he used to do, his housekeeper 
went up several times, and thought he was asleep; 
but at length suspecting something more than ordi- 
nary, she made a closer inspection ; and, perceiving 
his countenance changed, she threw open the curtains 
in a great surprise ; on which he just flashed open his 
eyes, but said not a word. She asked him how he 
did ? but he made no answer ; which made her cry 
more earnestly, " Pray, sir, how do you do ? how is it 
with you? For God's sake tell me." And all he said 
to her was, " Oh ! these Quakers ! Oh ! these Quakers ! 
Would to God I never had a hand against these 
Quakers ! " I did not hear that ever he spoke more. 
Sir John seemed surprised at this relation, and did 
not contradict it in the least ; which it is reasonable 
to think, he would, and with resentment too, had 
it not been true. Yet, notwithstanding this fair 
warning, he continued his practice of granting war- 
rants against us. But the officers were generally so 
civil as to acquaint us with it in time. Some time 
after this, Sir J. Guise and Sir Robert Atkins, being 
at Perrot's Brook, two miles from Cirencester, quar- 
relled as they were gaming. Sir John drew his 
sword, and demanded satisfaction. But those in the 
house stepp'd between them, and parted them. They 



74 MEMOIRS OF 

seeming to appear pacified, sat down to play again ; 
but afterwards, taking a walk together in the Bowling- 
green, the breast of Sir John being still filled with 
resentment, he said, '' Sir Robert, you gave me the 
lie, and I will have satisfaction." 

Sir Robert If I have said any thing more than is 
common for gentlemen to say to each other in their 
play, betwixt you and I, I ask your pardon. 

Sir John, If you '11 go in, and ask it before the 
people of the house, I will put it up ; otherwise I will 
not. 

Sir Robert. No, Sir John, that 's beneath me. 

Sir John, Then draw, or you shall die like a dog. 

They both drew ; and Sir Robert gave him a gen- 
tle prick in the arm, and said, I desire you, Sir John, 
to take that for satisfaction. I could have had you 
elsewhere, but was unwilling to do you further mis- 
chief. • 

Sir John, I '11 kill, or be killed ! 

Sir Robert, If that be your mind, look to yourself 
as well as you can, for I shall have you at next pass. 

And so he had ; for he ran him through, in at the 
belly, and out at the back; on which he fell. Sir 
Robert stepp'd up to him, unbuttoned his clothes, tore 
his shirt down, and gently drew out his sword; and 
then, after he had well sucked the wound, taking 
his handkerchief, he rolled the corners of it hard, 
and thrust it into the orifice; then buttoning his 



JOHN EGBERTS. 75 

clothes, he lifted him up, and desired him while he 
was able, that he would acquaint the people of the 
house that his death was of his own seeking. And, 
when they were come about him, he was so generous 
as to say, " If I die, Sir Robert is clear ; for if he had 
not killed me, I would have killed him." 

Sir Robert procured him surgeons; and after a 
while, when great pains came upon him, he lamented 
himself much, and said, *' It was the just hand of 
God upon him for meddling with the Quakers. But 
if he will be pleased to spare me, and try me again, 
I '11 never have a hand against them any more. For 
Hay ward told me, if I went on persecuting, the same 
hand that overtook my father, would overtake me 
before I was aware. He further told me, I was set 
on by some envious priests ; and I might have time 
to repent it. And so I do with all my heart. And 
't is true I could never come into company with Mr. 
Careless or Mr. Freame, but they would be stirring 
me up to put the laws in execution against dis- 
senters." 

The sword having missed his entrails, he recovered, 
stood candidate for the county after, and never more 
disturbed our meetings. 

The next thing I shall take notice of is, the pro- 
ceedings of justice James George against my father, 
my brother Nathaniel, and myself He came to the 
Ram tavern in Cirencester, and sent for my brother 
7 



76 MEMOIRS OF 

and me. My father went with us, and when we came 
thither he said: "Tis very well, John, that you 
are come too. I sent for your sons, to let them know 
it is his majesty's pleasure to have the laws put in 
execution : and now I take this opportunity to let 
them and you know that we must all be of one 
church." 

J". Roberts, Thou oughtest then to be well assured 
that it be the right church. For if thou shouldst be 
so far permitted to exercise the authority thou art 
intrusted with, as to force a man against his con- 
science to conform to a wrong church, thou canst not 
indemnify that man for so conforming in the day of 
account. I have read, indeed, that our Saviour made 
a whip of small cords to whip the buyers and sellers 
out of the temple ; but I never heard that he whipped 
any in. 

The window of the room being open, we had a 
prospect of Cirencester Tower ; and the justice point- 
ing to it, said, " What do you call that, John ? '' 

J, R. Thou mayst call it a daw-house, if thou 
pleasest. Dost thou not see how the jackdaws flock 
about it ? 

Justice, Well, notwithstanding your jesting, I warn 
you, in the king's name, that you meet no more, or 
you '11 answer it at your peril. 

J. E. Then I suppose thou thinkest thou hast done 
thy duty ? 



JOHN ROBERTS. 77 

Justice. Yes. 

J". R. Then I desire thee to give me leave to do 
my duty. And I do now warn thee, in the name of 
the King of kings, and Lord of lords, not to molest 
or hinder us in the peaceable exercise of our duty to 
God, as thou wilt answer it at another day. 

A little time after this, he sent to the officers, to 
bid them go to the Quakers' meeting-house on Sun- 
day next, and bring their names to him. The offi- 
cers were very unwilling to obey his command ; and 
some of them acquainted me with their orders de- 
siring we would not meet at the usual time, or other- 
wise that we would meet at another place. I told 
them, we did not dare so far to deny the worship of 
our God ; for, said I, we worship the same God that 
Daniel did ; and he, notwithstanding the severe de- 
cree of the king, failed not openly to own God, by 
praying to him, with his window open as usual. 
And our God is the same he was in Daniel's days, 
as able to stop the mouth of the lion as he was then. 
And we are not afraid to trust in him, having had 
experience of many deliverances he hath wrought 
for us. 

The next First Day we met at the time and place 
we used to meet ; and a good meeting we had, the 
living presence of the Lord being sensibly felt among 
us. One of the constables came in, and delivered a 
warrant to my brother John, desiring him to read 



78 MEMOIRS OF 

it. But my brother put it in his pocket, telling him 
he designed to read it when the meeting was over. 
" That will not do," said he ; " for if you will not read 
it now, I desire you to give it me again." Which 
he did. And then they took a list of several of our 
names, and carried it to justice George. On which 
he sent cut his warrants to distrain our goods. They 
seized my father's corn in his barns, and locked up 
the barn-doors. At that time the murrain had seized 
the justice's cattle, and they died apace. His stew- 
ard told him that he must send for John Hay ward, 
or he would lose all his cattle. " No," said the jus- 
tice, " don't send for him now, because I have war- 
rants out against him and his sons. Send for any- 
body else now." So the steward sent for another ; 
who did what he could for them, but to very little 
purpose ; for the cattle continued to sicken and die 
as before. The steward then told him, " Please, your 
worship, if you don't send for John Hayward, I be- 
lieve you will lose all your cattle ; for now the bull is 
sick, and off his meat, and I don't find as this man 
does them any good. But if you please to send for 
John, I don't question but he could be of service to 
them." " Send for him, then," said the justice, " but 
don't bring him in as you used to do. When he has 
done what he can, pay him and dismiss him." So 
my father was sent for, and went, (having learned 
the great Christian lesson, to return good for evil,) 



JOHN EGBERTS. 79 

and did his best for them. "When he had done, as 
he was wiping his hands in the entry, the justice, 
undesignedly came by him ; and, seeing he could not 
avoid his notice, said, "So, John, you have done 
something for my cattle, I suppose." " Yes," said 
my father, "and I hope it will do them good." 
" Well," said the justice to the steward, " pay John." 

J. Roberts. No, 1 11 have none of thy money. 

Justice. None of my money ? Why so ? 

J, R. To what purpose is it for me to take a little 
of thy money by retail^ and thou come and take my 
goods by wholesale f 

Jus. Don't you think your coming to drink and 
bleed my cattle will deter me from executing the 
king's laws ? 

J. R. It 's time enough for thee to deny me a favor 
when I ask it of thee. I seek no favor at thy hands. 
But, when thou hast done me all the displeasure 
thou art permitted to do, I will, notwithstanding, 
serve thee or thiTie to the utmost of my power. 

Jus. Well, John, you must stay and dine with me. 

J. R. Perhaps I shall intrude if I stay. I had 
rather be excused. 

Jus, 'T is no intrusion, John ; you shall stay. 

So my father stayed, and presented him with a 

piece of Thomas EUwood's, against persecution. 

Which, together with my father's readiness to serve 

him, so wrought on him, that I don't remember any 

7* 



80 MEMOIRS OF 

of his corn being taken from him at that time. But 
my brother Nathaniel and myself, being partners 
in trade in Cirencester, were fined by this justice 
George (for ourselves and some unable persons 
present with us at the meeting) seventy pounds. 

Some time after came to our house Sir Thomas 
Cutter, with other justices, the sheriff of the county, 
his men, and two constables. Our neighbours, in 
good-will to us, shut our doors, and the maid fast- 
ened them on the inside ; but the justices gave orders 
they should be broke open. A young woman being 
in the shop when it was done, ran out at the back 
door in a fright. Which Sir Thomas seeing, said, 
" There's one gone! there might as well be five hun- 
dred gone ! I '11 take my oath here was a conven- 
ticle." I, being near him, bid him take care what 
he said or swore, because he must give account, and 
he knew not how soon. A servant belonging to 
one of them took off my hat, and laid it on the table. 
I took it and put it on again, saying, I hope a man 
may keep his hat on in his own house, without 
offence to any person. 

Sir Thoma^^, What's your name? 

D. Boberis. Daniel Roberts. 

Sir T, Can you swear ? 

D. R. Not that I know of; I never tried. 

Sir T, Then you must begin now. 

D. JR. I think I shall not 



JOHN ROBERTS. 81 

Sir T. How will you help it ? 

D. B. By not doing it. But if thou canst con- 
vince me by that book in thy hand (which w^as the 
Bible) that it is lawful to swear, since Christ forbids 
it, then I will swear. For when men come and say 
you must swear or suffer, 't is but reasonable to ex- 
pect such men should be qualified to prove it lawful. 
Our Saviour says, " Swear not at all." Thou sayest, 
" I must swear." Pray, which must I obey ? 

Sir T. Well, Daniel, if you will not swear, you 
must go to jail. 

Z>. R. The will of God be done. For be it known 
to you, we had rather be in prison, and enjoy our 
peace with God, than be at liberty, and break our 
peace with him. 

Justice Parsons, I suppose you are one of John 
Hay ward's sons. 

B, B, Yes. 

Jus. P, I am sorry for that. 

J). R. Why art thou sorry for that? I never 
heard an honest man speak against my father in my 
life. What hast thou against him ? 

Sir T. That he has not only misled himself, but 
is also a means to mislead others. 

D. R, If you have nothing against him but his 
obedience to the law of his God, that 's no more than 
the accusers of honest Daniel had against him ; and 
that does not concern me. 



82 MEMOIES OP 

Sir T, His worshipping God in the way he does 
is crime enough. 

D. E. Then I hope I shall be a criminal as long 
as I live. 

Then they seized what goods they pleased, and 
took them away with them. And after they had 
tendered to us the oaths twice more, our mittimuses 
were made, and we were sent to Gloucester castle ; 
where we found several of our friends before us ; and, 
with them thait were sent in soon after us, we became 
a family of forty or fifty. The jailer's name was 
John Landborne ; and for a piece of service I did 
him gratis in his absence, (i. e. officiating as key- 
turner, and preventing two notorious robbers from 
breaking out), I could prevail with him to let sev- 
eral of our friends go home, when occasion partic- 
ularly required, for some time together. We, being 
a large number of us in the prison, had often large 
meetings, on the First Days, in the castle. Divers of 
the prisoners who were not of us, as well as several 
people out of the city, would come and sit down with 
us. Therefore, Richard Parsons, one of our perse- 
cutors, who lived in the city, came to our morning 
meeting, accompanied with several others. My 
father was present with us, and Henry Panton (who 
had formerly been a fencing-master) was preaching 
when they came in, concerning the confession of 
some, who perpetually say they are doing of what 



JOHN ROBERTS. 83 

they ought not, and leaving undone what they ought 
to do. Which words Parsons (who was a priest, a 
chancellor, and a justice) took hold of, telling him, 
" he was complaining of others for what he was doing 
himself For," said he, " you are now doing what you 
ought not, and leaving undone what you ought to 
do;" catching hold of his gray locks to pull him 
down. But Henry being a tall man, pretty strong 
and active, though in years, he stood his ground and 
spoke over his head. Parsons then strove to stop 
his mouth ; but he avoided it by turning his head 
aside. When he had done speaking, a Friend stood 
up, and said, "'Tis a sign the devil's hard put to it 
to have his drudgery done, that priests must leave 
their pulpits and parishioners to take up the busi- 
ness of informers against poor prisoners in the 
prison." 

After priest Parsons had been some time endeav- 
ouring to get the names of some present, and nobody 
would give him information, he thus broke out : " If 
you are thereabouts, I shall be even with you another 
way." For he had got a list of several of the prisoners' 
names; and taking for granted they were all present 
at the time, he sent out his warrants for detaining 
their goods. However, herein he was mistaken ; for 
several were then absent ; amongst whom was Lettice 
Gush, a widow, who lived about twenty miles dis- 
tant. Some officers were sent to her house to distrain 

F 



84 MEMOIKS OF 

her goods, for being at this meeting, when she was 
twenty miles from the place. When the officers 
came, she told them she was not at meeting ; and, 
to convince them, persuaded them to go with her to 
her landlord, who was also a justice of the peace, and 
knew what she said to be true. When they came 
before him, and showed him the warrant, " What a 
rascal," said he, " is this Parsons ! Here he says 
he '11 take his oath that my tenant was convicted by 
him of being at a conventicle in Gloucester castle, 
such a day of the month : and I '11 take my oath she 
was at home at the same time, which is twenty miles 
off. If you touch any of her goods by virtue of this 
warrant, be it at your peril. I '11 assure you, if you 
do, I '11 stick close to your skirts." 

Officer. What can we do in this case ? How can 
we make a legal return of the warrant without exe- 
cuting it ? 

Landlord. Carry it back to Mr. Parsons, and tell 
him to * * * * and I '11 bear you 
out in it. 

So they returned without giving her any farther 
trouble. Another warrant was issued out against 
Francis Boy, physician, on the same account, and of 
the same value, who was likewise absent at the time of 
his pretended conviction. When the officers came to 
distrain his goods, he was not at home. So his cattle 
were taken away, to the value of between 20 and 30/. 



JOHN ROBERTS, 85 

He afterwards, on inspection, found by his books, 
that he was attending a gentleman the time he was 
said to be convicted. To this gentleman he w^ent, 
and inquired of him, *' if he could remember the day- 
he attended him ?" The gentleman answered, " He 
had good reason to remember it; for," said he, "if 
you had not done wdiat you did for me that day, I 
believe I should have been now in my grave." He 
then informed the gentleman of the reason that in- 
duced him to give him that trouble. "Well," re- 
plied he, " I advise you to appeal to the next quar- 
ter sessions for redress ; and you may assure your- 
self, I '11 endeavour to serve you what lies in my 
power ; for I '11 take my oath before any judge, or 
bench of justices in England, that you were with me 
that day." But it so fell out that they had no occa- 
sion to appeal. For it soon took air that he had 
such a substantiai evidence in his favour ; and his 
cattle were returned before the sessions. 

Not long after, it pleased God to visit our dear 
father with sickness, which proved mortal. I had 
leave to attend him the major part of the time he 
was sick ; and the Lord was pleased to favour him 
with his living presence in his last moments ; and 
having honourably finished his day's work, he de- 
parted this life in the year 1683, and was interred in 
the piece of ground he had long before given to 
Friends for a burying-place, situate at the lower end 
of his orchard, at Siddington, near Cirencester. 



86 MEMOIKS OF JOHN EOBERTS. 

Some time after his interment, I had the news that 
mj brother and myself, with four Friends more, were 
discharged by the judge; but that the other four 
were detained for their fees. I therefore went down 
to use my interest with the jailer for their discharge. 
I found him ill in bed ; and he told me he was very 
willing to remit the fees belonging to himself; but 
there were some due to the under-sheriff, and those 
not in his power. But soon after. Providence so or- 
dered, that we all had our liberty : and I came and 
settled at my present habitation atChessham,in Buck- 
inghamshire, where I have now dwelt about forty years. 

Thus, considering that it would be a great pity 
these singular providences of the Almighty should 
not be recorded for the benefit of posterity, I 
was willing, for my own perusal, and that of my 
family, and some few particular Friends, to commit 
them to writing. In the doing of which, respecting 
the several conferences my father had with the bish- 
ops, and others before mentioned, I have been care- 
ful to pen them down in the same words they were 
then expressed in, as near as I could recollect, or at 
least to retain the genuine sense and purport of 
them. Which, reader ! if they tend to thy confirm- 
ation and encouragement in a course of true Chris- 
tian piety, I have my end — who am 
Thy sincere friend, 

DANIEL ROBERTS. 

Chessham, 4th Month, 1725. 



